


Breathe

by DiaryofaWriter, silvergryphon



Series: Black and Gold Verse [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9781856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiaryofaWriter/pseuds/DiaryofaWriter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergryphon/pseuds/silvergryphon
Summary: Vader Skywalker is many things; eloquent is not on that list. But he is grateful he no longer has to have mechanical help breathing.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silvergryphon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergryphon/gifts).



The day Vader took his first unaided breaths in ten years was a day he would remember forever. For nearly three years now, Naroko had been putting him back together with nothing but her own stubbornness and a professional fury at how badly his medical care had been mangled after Mustafar. Even knowing Naroko’s determination to heal him as much as she could, Vader had never let himself hope he’d ever be without the suit that kept him alive. When he had first been informed by Naroko that she was growing replacement lungs from his DNA, he scoffed and made a flippant comment, not wanting to show how much he longed for this experiment to work.

Now, it was complete. Ayliah had been in the back of the surgical theater when Vader first entered it, her back to him. While it wasn’t quite acceptance of him, she had never turned her back on him before. It was progress, at least. At Ayliah’s side were the clone sisters, Tinker and Mercy. Mercy fiddled with various hypos and medications in preparation for having to put Vader under for this procedure. Tinker was here to further upgrade the prosthetic limbs that allowed Vader to be mobile. The mechanic turned when she heard Vader’s aided breathing and grinned cheekily, throwing him an only half-serious salute.

“General,” she greeted. “Think I finally figured out how to make it so you aren’t walkin’ on your toes so much.”

Vader nodded slightly, unable to smile at her with his mask still in place. “I was hoping you had an answer to that particular difficulty,” he chuckled. “And what about the connections between flesh and prosthetic?”

“Oh, Mercy’n’me got a solution for that, don’t worry,” the mechanic assured him. “We’ll be workin’ on that while General Chiston’s got you on the table.”

Out of the corner of his visor, Vader saw Ayliah’s lekku twitch in mild irritation. It was a familiar enough motion; he had seen it many times in his youth alongside the red-skinned Twi’lek. He could also understand why it was she was irritated with his presence here. At least she no longer wanted to slit his throat.

“Speaking of,” the familiar voice of Naroko cut through Vader’s thoughts, “let’s get you onto the table, dear one.”

Once more, Ayliah’s lekku gave a twitch, but she didn’t give any other indication of her displeasure as she came over to stand beside her former Master. As Vader made his way to the surgical table, he glanced at Ayliah’s face and found that it made his heart ache a little to see. She was younger than him by at least two years--neither of them were entirely certain of their exact ages--and already she had lines of worry and hurt around her eyes and mouth. Some of them had been smoothed by laugh lines, but it wasn’t enough. At twenty-eight, she shouldn’t be so greatly aged.

“We’ll put you under with a mixture of Force Sleep and medications,” Naroko was saying as Vader climbed onto the table. “That way you don’t wake up part way through with your lungs outside of your chest cavity.”

“We can’t have that, can we?” Vader drawled, lying back with a slight grunt. “Just make sure you don’t forget to put something back  _ in _ .”

Naroko’s laugh was like a silver stream, flowing over his soul and easing the aches and pains of long-ago anger. Even after eight years of her fighting him tooth and nail on his return to the Light, she still found a way to get under both his metaphorical armor and the literal armor he now wore to keep himself alive. Smiling a little to himself as he settled on the table, Vader closed his eyes and allowed Naroko to take his life into her hands once again.

He didn’t know how long he slept for; it must have been hours, though, because when he opened his eyes again the sun for the Yavin system had set. That was when he noticed Naroko standing over him, her eyes bright with pride and her smile shining in the moonlight. It took him a moment or two to realize why she was radiating joy and pride. Then he realized he couldn’t hear the familiar noise of a respirator aiding his breaths. His chest was rising and falling in a completely natural rhythm, and it didn’t burn to take an experimental breath. 

For the first time in a decade, Vader Skywalker was breathing under his own power.

It took him a moment to realize he was crying as he took several steadying breaths, sitting up slowly and just enjoying the fact that he no longer needed that Sith-cursed respirator. Naroko didn’t comment on his tears, simply steadied him and made sure he wasn’t about to stop breathing suddenly. For several long minutes, they were both silent. Naroko didn’t even reach into his mind through the Force, as she usually did after such a long and arduous healing session.

“I--” Vader paused, not certain what it was exactly he wanted to say to Naroko. There were so many feelings tumbling through his heart as he looked at the tall woman beside him, and he didn’t have the words to express them to her.

“You’re welcome, dear one,” Naroko said simply, her eyes crinkling with her sincere smile. “Just enjoy it for now. And rest,” she added with a wry smile. “You’ve just had two organs replaced, after all.”

Vader laughed breathlessly, still marvelling at this new development. “You’re a miracle worker, Naroko,” he said sincerely.

“Well, I try.”

  
  
  


It’s almost six months after his first unaided breaths, and Vader has never been happier. As they had promised, Mercy and Tinker more than delivered when it came to his limbs. With the aid of his own personal clone medic and mechanic, they had devised a new sort of prosthetic that could connect to his limbs without causing him pain at the slightest provocation. Ayliah had even given some grudging help, connecting the wiring to the nerves of his limbs, once damaged beyond repair but now healed by Naroko. With his new prosthetics in place, he no longer had difficulty with such simple actions as kneeling to hug his children. Even more important, he could hug his children close without causing them discomfort because he no longer needed that cursed death suit anymore.

Luke was more than willing to take advantage of this fact, though he hadn’t been exactly hesitant to hug his father before. Leia, on the other hand, was very pleased with this change, as she had complained more than once to Vader about the suit’s indicators pressing into her side uncomfortably.

In many ways, everything seemed so surreal to Vader. He was a father--something he had thought was lost to him when he had Fallen--and he was now more man than machine. Naroko was even helping to heal the hideous scarring on his face and head.

“Now you’re not about to die on me, I can focus on that pretty face of yours,” she said during one of their smaller healing sessions. “Who knows? I might even be able to restore your hair.”

“Well, if you can restore my lungs, I think a little hair isn’t going to be too great a challenge for you,” Vader snorted in response. “Or is this just your way of trying to appease my wounded vanity?”

Naroko laughed lightly, her fingers brushing over his scarred skin with all the delicacy of an artist putting the final touches on a sculpture. “Now what gave you that idea, dear one?”

Vader shrugged and grinned lopsidedly at her. “I’ve known you a long time.”

Once more, Naroko laughed before going silent. The quiet that stretched out between them was a companionable one, with none of the awkwardness that had been present several years ago. Vader enjoyed these moments. He knew that Naroko had no expectations of him beyond what he had already done. The Rebels expected him to be the perfect soldier, proving that he was worthy of their trust in every action he took. Padme expected him to be a bad influence on the children, though she was slowly growing out of that. Even ObiWan and Ahsoka had expectations of him, though they were harder to read than Vader’s former wife. Naroko was just relieved he had made the right choice and was content to be a companion and shoulder to lean on now.

Between Naroko and the twins, Vader could almost believe that he could become the good man they believed he had the capacity to be.

“Naroko?” Vader said in a low voice, not wanting to disrupt the peace of this moment.

“Mm?” the healer’s voice was distracted as she focused on a particularly bad patch of scar tissue.

“Why do you continue to fight so hard for me?” Vader asked, choosing his words carefully. When Naroko’s fingers stilled against his skin, he continued, trying to find the right words for what his doubts and fears were. “I’ve done all you asked of me; I came back from the Darkness, I foreswore Sidious, I defected from the Empire. Why continue to defend me? You made it clear what you thought of the actions I had taken in my Fall. You have every reason to be disgusted with me.”

Naroko paused for a moment, her expression distant and thoughtful as she dropped her hands to her sides. Vader watched her face closely, trying to get some understanding for what she was thinking. He was no empath, so he couldn’t read Naroko’s feelings as well as she could read his, and he had never had Ayliah’s sensitivity to the thoughts of others. While he was certainly powerful in the Force, he had no finesse when it came to comprehending what he sensed from those around him. Perhaps that had been why Sidious had so completely fooled him.

“Because you are my friend,” Naroko said at last. Vader wasn’t quite certain, but he could have sworn she hesitated before saying the word ‘friend’. She continued before he could comment on this. “Once, you were among the best Jedi I knew. I know there is no going back to what you were before, but I know you have the potential to be a good man like you were before. That is why,” she said firmly. “I’m fighting for you because I know what you can be.”

A part of Vader was a little disappointed at this answer. For some reason, he had hoped her reasons would be more...personal. Before Naroko could pick up on those emotions, he pushed them aside. He had lost all rights to such relationships when he had nearly killed Padme on Mustafar. If he never found someone who could love him as Padme once had, it would be exactly what he deserved.

Despite his efforts to hide these feelings, Naroko seemed to sense them all the same. Vader could see the comprehension in her eyes as she realized exactly what it was he was thinking, and he suddenly wished the earth would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. At least then he wouldn’t have to see the inevitable pity in Naroko’s eyes. Looking away from her to avoid seeing that pity, he just waited for the wash of her emotions. To his surprise, the feelings he could sense from Naroko weren’t pity or even guilt at being unable to return the feelings he had begun to develop for her.

Shockingly, he sensed affection and even...love.

This so surprised him that Vader glanced up at Naroko without stopping to think about his reaction. It had been so long since anyone had truly loved him in a way he could sense that it  _ must  _ be a trick. Yet, as he met Naroko’s gaze, Vader could sense nothing but sincerity from her. 

“Do you really think I’d do all this for anyone I didn’t love, dear one?” Naroko asked, her voice gentle, as though he were a skittish animal that might run away at any moment.

In fairness to her, he probably might have if she hadn’t been so quiet.

“You wanted to create an ally,” he said in mild protest, trying to convince himself as much as her. “And I was a former friend.”

“Both true,” Naroko admitted, her hand gently caressing the skin of his cheek. “But not the whole truth.”

Vader’s heart lept; it soared; it thudded painfully against his ribs, trying to break free. He did his best to control it and keep himself from having too much hope. His traitorous heart didn’t listen.

“Er,” he said, wishing he had something better to say; but he had never been that eloquent when it came to voicing his emotions. That talent was strictly Padme’s.

Naroko had a talent for speaking through actions. Vader realized this in that moment, as she leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. It demanded nothing of him, and was over almost before he fully registered what had happened. All this kiss did was inform him that, yes, she did have feelings for him, and she would let him move at his own pace. 

When he was finally able to process what had happened, Vader was grateful for how delicately she was treating him. It was still so soon after he had learned about Padme and Obi-Wan’s relationship, and that pain was fresh. Even with his budding feelings for Naroko, it was hard to let go of his love of Padme. She had been his first love, his Angel, his wife and the mother of his children. In many ways, he would never let go of his love for Padme; in other ways, he already had.

“Er,” he repeated, still not sure what to say.

“Give it time, dear one,” Naroko laughed quietly. “Just let me know when you have the words to express what you want.”

“...Right.”

Naroko’s expression was amused as she finished her healing of his skin for the time being. “That’s a start,” she said with approval in her voice. “Now, go on. I have other patients, shockingly.”

Without stopping to think, Vader obeyed, standing up slowly and moving towards the door of the infirmary. There, he paused and turned to look back at Naroko. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Of course, dear one,” Naroko replied, already a little distracted by her other duties.

Watching her with a fond smile, Vader shook his head slightly and made his way towards the ship hangar where his modified TIE was waiting. At least now, he knew there was hope. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to anymore, but it was certainly one he could grow accustomed to.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is dedicated to the lovely silvergryphon, who helped me create this entire 'verse. You should check out her series set in this 'verse, Black and Gold. It's amazing and worthy of all the love and attention you can get. It also has some information on who exactly Naroko is (short answer is she's silvergryphon's OC)


End file.
